For the Man With (Almost) Everything
by sapphireswimming
Summary: Charismatic billionaire Vlad Masters has everything he could ever want in the world. Except… we all know that isn't quite true.


**Timeline:** doesn't matter for Danny Phantom; set in Supernatural season 6 or onward, but there are no spoilers beyond something you find out in season 2, so.

* * *

><p><strong>For the Man With (Almost) Everything<strong>

September 21, 2014

* * *

><p>Skulker stuck his head around the corner, his metal faceplate conveying that this was the last place on earth or in the zone that he wanted to be at the moment.<p>

"Yes?" Vlad asked distractedly as he noticed the presence of his employee. "Did you find him?"

"He is here," the ghostly hunter rumbled grudgingly.

"Good," Vlad replied with a nod.

Skulker rapped his fingers nervously against the doorframe, the clicking sound of metal on metal quickly cluing in the half ghost that the interview was not yet over. Vlad looked up with a raised eyebrow.

Clearing his programmed vocal chords, Skulker finally admitted, "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Well, that's why I don't employ you to think," Vlad retorted with a bit of a scoffing laugh.

"But you do employ me to look out for your best interests," he pointed out, "and in this case, I don't believe…"

"Skulker," Vlad cut him off, his face suddenly hard.

But the ghost continued in consciously clipped tones, "For the record, Plasmius, I advise against this."

Vlad glared. "Duly noted. Now, show him in."

Skulker ducked out of view and a few moments later, a short man in a dark, elegantly tailored suit sauntered in.

"Well, well, well," he said impressively as he took in his surroundings.

The English accent was something that Vlad hadn't expected, but it seemed to fit the man's entire persona. He rose from the table where innumerable blueprints were spread out awaiting his final stamp of approval and moved forward to greet the man.

"Crowley, I presume."

"Doctor Livingston," he returned with a grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Masters."

"I'm flattered that you know who I am."

"Know who you are?" Crowley returned, surprised. "Of course I do. As King of Hell, I do like to keep tabs on everyone topside that's particularly interesting."

"And I fall into that category?" Vlad asked with false modesty.

Crowley tilted his head to get a look at the prototype lying on top of the dissection table. "You are first in that category," he returned. "I mean, come on, leader of a thousand companies, wealth of untold billions, a castle, all before you're thirty years old? And none of my demons have you on any of their ledgers as having made a deal to get a penny of it. Now that makes you _very_ interesting to me."

Vlad gestured towards some chairs, but the demon shook his head, so they remained standing in the middle of the half ghost's impressive first laboratory.

"Well, thank you for being willing to meet with me so quickly."

"Ah yes, and why did you want to meet?" Crowley asked, genuine interest coloring his features.

"Besides finding consolation in the fact that another leader of hordes is able to do so while maintaining such a distinguished demeanor, which would be enough," Vlad admitted with a slight smirk, "I should have thought that it was obvious."

Crowley didn't even try to repress his smile, well aware of what palms the silver-haired man thought he was greasing. Not that he minded. "Most people who meet with me have quite nefarious plans up their sleeve. I'm sure I can't begin to guess what's going on in your head."

Vlad made a dismissive gesture. "Actually, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you there. I was not so much needing to talk to you in your capacity as the King of Hell so much as the greatest crossroads demon to ever have made a deal."

Crowley pursed his lips. "I'm intrigued," he all but purred. "The great Vlad Masters, who has accumulated all this under his own steam, wants to make a deal. What is it that you weren't able to get by yourself?" he mused aloud.

"Three things, Crowley," Vlad held up an appropriate number of slender fingers. "There are three things I want. And you can get them for me."

"So I can," the man opposite him confirmed. "For a price of course," he added quickly.

"What is your price?" Vlad asked.

"Well," Crowley let out a breath of air. "The standard deal is ten years."

"Ten years of what?"

"No, no. Not _of_ what," Crowley corrected. "_Until_ what."

"Until what, then?" Vlad asked again with a smile.

"Until we come for your soul," the man replied brightly. "Me and my doggies."

Vlad nodded thoughtfully. "That's the standard rate, is it?"

"It is."

"And who gets a different rate?"

"Oh," Crowley spread out his hands as he considered all of the possibilities. "Well, people like the Winchesters get a single year. Or barely any time at all. No one wants to deal with them," he explained. "You're just as likely to get killed as close the sale."

"And who gets longer?"

The demon grinned and tilted his head. "Only very close personal friends of the King of Hell."

"Is that so?" Vlad smiled as if he had been let in on an inside joke.

"It is," the demon confirmed.

"And," Vlad began, "if someone happened to fall into that category, what might the King of Hell be able to do for them?"

Crowley shrugged a little. "Whatever he liked, I suppose."

"Hmm," Vlad shrugged. "So if I were to request a life where I own these three things, what would be the surcharge…?"

"Ah, ah, ah, no, love, it doesn't work like that," Crowley tsked. "You don't get to choose a life. You get a thing." He held up one finger. "A single thing."

"A single thing?" Vlad asked as if he couldn't believe that anyone could think such a deal would be worth it.

"A single thing," Crowley replied, nonplussed. "If you want more than that, I suggest you go find yourself a djinn."

"Fair enough," Vlad huffed under his breath, making a mental note to research more about djinns as soon as they had concluded their business. "So if I requested each of three things…?" he asked tentatively.

"You would be making three contracts."

"At ten years each?" the half ghost asked incredulously. "And then you get one soul for the price of three? That doesn't seem in your best interests."

"That's because it's not," Crowley said shortly. "It's also not what you do. You make three deals and you get all three things for three years and a third. You can try to quibble about mathematics or leap days in the fine print of your contract, but that's basically what you get."

"A perfect life for three years?" Vlad questioned.

"A life with the three things you ask for for three years plus four months," Crowley responded. "Can't guarantee you'll be perfectly satisfied with the results, of course, but you get what you ask for. Always take it or leave it."

Vlad looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "I'm afraid that won't do. No use at all having it all for such a short time."

"I've known plenty of people who would have sold their souls for a single year. People who were desperate enough to do so, in fact."

"But I'm not that desperate," Vlad pointed out. "I've gotten where I am under my own prowess, after all, and with enough planning, I can get the rest of what I want."

"If you say so," Crowley sniffed. "But I've never been able to be a patient man myself."

"You've been around long enough that I would have thought you would have learned by now."

"Old dogs…" the demon shrugged and trailed off, letting part of the proverb hang in the air.

Vlad considered what he had said, then smiled. "A sly dog, perhaps. You have more up your sleeve that you want to reveal now, don't you?"

"You're a smart one, Masters. Yes, I do have an offer to make. As King of Hell, I am allowed…" he looked around as if to find the right phrase before shrugging a bit and going with, "special privileges."

"As in," Vlad asked, "you get to rule the underworld however you would like."

"Basically, yes," Crowley agreed before leaning forward. "So what that means in this case is that I'm willing to make you a special offer."

Vlad quirked an eyebrow.

"In exchange for an unspecified favor at some later date that I will feel free to call upon you for whenever it is convenient…"

"For me or for you?"

"Me, obviously," Crowley huffed with an expression that said he thought the man had been crazy to bother asking before continuing his train of thought. "In exchange for that… I will let you have one item of your choosing, free of charge."

"No taking my soul in ten years time?" Vlad asked.

"No taking your soul at all, perhaps," Crowley replied.

Vlad flashed a disbelieving smile. "You think I'm getting to heaven when all is said and done?"

"Not for me to say. But stranger things have happened," he said gravely as he canted his head.

"I imagine they must have…" Vlad mused.

"So," Crowley coughed as he clasped his hands in front of him. "What do you say?"

Vlad considered. "You can procure for me any of these three things?" he asked slowly.

"King of Hell," the man answered with arms spread wide. "What are they? Name 'em."

"One is the Packers."

"The what?" Crowley asked, clearly puzzled.

"The Green Bay Packers football team," Vlad clarified.

"American football…?"

"Yes."

"Ah." Crowley made a face. "To each their own. But fair enough. Yes, I can get it for you."

Vlad held up a hand to forestall any immediate deals. "That may not be the one I choose."

"What are the other two, then?"

"Two people," Vlad eventually admitted.

Crowley beamed. "Love it when it's people," he explained. "So who are the lucky winners?"

"Madeline Fenton."

"A woman. How shocking," Crowley gave him a rakish grin.

"And her son," Vlad continued. "Daniel Fenton."

"Now there's a twist," Crowley mused. "Why take the son, too?"

"Also, Jack Fenton dead," Vlad added as if it were an afterthought, "but that one I'd prefer to do myself."

"Of course," Crowley agreed amiably. "Perfectly understandable."

"You can…" Vlad searched for the right word, "… get people?"

The demon nodded. "Yes, I can."

Vlad nodded to himself and seemed to come to a decision. "Very well. I accept."

"Excellent." Crowley stopped for a moment, "You know you can only choose one, you understand?"

"I understand," Vlad said. "I've made my decision. Where do I sign?"

"Ah," Crowley gave a bit of a grimace here, as if he were embarrassed to explain this change in policy. "About that… we don't so much sign contracts anymore. A bit old school. Our deals are closed… a different way."

"How?" Vlad asked warily.

Crowley stared at him for a long moment before finally replying, "With a kiss, love."

Vlad raised an eyebrow as he took in the startling news.

"So," the King of Hell watched in amusement as he laid the cards out on the table. "What's it going to be? Deal? Or no deal?"

"Deal," Vlad decided, stepping forward.

* * *

><p><strong>Actually not trying to leave you with a cliffhanger but a case can be made for each decision, so I'll allow it to be whichever one you think it should be. XD<strong>

**I feel like putting these two guys in this situation would end so badly, though. Well dressed, dapper partners in crime where one can give each other literally anything he wasn't able to get by himself in return for a carte blanche check to the king of Hell… eesh.**

**Also, if you wanted to read more Vlad and Crowley (because they have the best interactions everrrr bahaha), I've written _The Billionaire You Trust_, _QED_, and _Regnant_. And Anthrop has _For Want of a Life_ which is really fantastic!**


End file.
